French actress Eva Green loves her nude scenes in Sin City: A Dame To Kill For because they're just as stylised as director Robert Rodriguez promised her they'd be. The former Bond girl portrays temptress Ava Lord in the new film and admits she put her faith and trust in her director when he asked her to bare all for revealing scenes.
She explains, "He came to my trailer and swore to me that I would look amazing with the right lighting and the right shadows. You always feel quite vulnerable when you're naked on a set and you feel quite silly. With the green screen around you in your tiny thong, it's not that sexy. You trust their vision and it looks stunning. It's not vulgar and it's not indecent. It's not realistic. It's beautiful, I think."
But Rodriguez stopped short of asking his leading lady Jessica Alba to bare all for the cameras, even though her stripper character Nancy Callahan is often topless in Frank Miller's graphic novels.
He says, "When I had seen the book originally it was drawn a certain way. Frank drew these never to be movies. You couldn't find an actress of any calibre for the first movie because she was walking around topless all the time; even when she wasn't dancing.
"It was very stylised, so I knew Jessica wouldn't do topless. It was that hard thing where I could either get someone who's just like the book but can't act like Jessica, or I can get Jessica and we can just cover her up.
"People to this day think she was naked because she does it so sexy and some things were exposed. There wasn't any nudity in the first one; it was all in the mind so we could suggest a lot with costume and attitude."
And modest Alba, who famously has a no nudity clause in her contract, admits she had a ball playing a clothed Callahan in the sequel.
She adds, "In the first film I was 21 and was so young and not really comfortable in my own skin, being on a stage and dancing. It was all kind of terrifying to me. I was terrified. I didn't want to make a misstep and disappoint anyone. In this one I felt more confident and comfortable in my own skin. If I'm gonna be able to do movies I might as well go 150 per cent and really push it and be fearless. That's kind of the attitude I took this time."
And the mum-of-two didn't have to work too hard maintaining her toned physique: "The role kept me energised. I ate a lot of vegetables. You really don't want to eat tacos and burritos all day when you're in a dance costume!"

Showtime
At a distance, Shameless looks like it's got all it needs to be a smash hit/critics' darling: superb acting (performed by a cast of fresh talent, with a few seasoned pros leading the way), a down-and-out underdog family, expertly written black humor, and sensitivity to delicate subjects like drug abuse (and people abuse), alcoholism, and mental health. In short, it's got the makings to sweep some major awards, in addition to being a prime watercooler topic. But is it?
Don't get us wrong, its ratings are more than respectable, and it's also critically well-received: it's just that it doesn't have that same sort of buzz that surrounds its more popular contemporaries, nor the awards that generally follow. Joan Cusack received guest star Emmy nods, and William H. Macy scored a Critics' Choice nomination, but other than that, it's shockingly under-decorated. Perhaps moving over to the comedy category can help the show, but then again, it's an increasingly dark hour of TV (though it should be mentioned that John Wells is the man who deemed his shockingly unfunny adaptation of August: Osage County a comedy).
So why isn't Shameless getting the recognition it deserves? Well, first off, there's the gross-out factor (some of my friends who are fans joke that they can't watch the show over dinner; still others claim they can smell Frank's Pigpen-esque filth through the screen) – and, on a less superficial level, there's also the fact that it can be very disturbing. In Season 2, Frank tricked a "friend" out of a desperately-needed heart transplant in hopes of inheriting her pension. In a more recent episode, Fiona's cocaine-fueled partying led to her baby brother's near death (and possible brain damage). These people are intensely flawed, to say the least. Shameless lives in the uncomfortable gray area between the feel-good aura of a show like The Mindy Project and the glamorous (by comparison, anyway) anti-heroism of shows like Mad Men and Breaking Bad. Frank Gallagher is a character you very rarely root for, not even as he inches his way towards death.
Plus, unlike the more streamlined programs that follow careful A-story/B-story/C-story structures, it's, well, kind of mess. The threads of the story get tangled easily. Though its frenetic structure may seem untidy at first glance, it's one of the things viewers who stick with it come to love most: the frenzied, overlapping plotlines mirror and represent its characters' own hectic lifestyles.
Shameless continues to turn many of our preconceived notions about TV storytelling on their heads, even as we blaze through this "golden era" of television, where it seems every show and its brother are revolutionaries. It pushes envelopes and breaks down barriers, juggles a sprawling ensemble cast, and perhaps most importantly of all, brings heart to its heartless depiction of Chicago's South Side.
In other words? If you're not watching, you should be.
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DreamWorks
For the bulk of every Rocky and Bullwinkle episode, moose and squirrel would engage in high concept escapades that satirized geopolitics, contemporary cinema, and the very fabrics of the human condition. With all of that to work with, there's no excuse for why the pair and their Soviet nemeses haven't gotten a decent movie adaptation. But the ingenious Mr. Peabody and his faithful boy Sherman are another story, intercut between Rocky and Bullwinkle segments to teach kids brief history lessons and toss in a nearly lethal dose of puns. Their stories and relationship were much simpler, which means that bringing their shtick to the big screen would entail a lot more invention — always risky when you're dealing with precious material.
For the most part, Mr. Peabody &amp; Sherman handles the regeneration of its heroes aptly, allowing for emotionally substance in their unique father-son relationship and all the difficulties inherent therein. The story is no subtle metaphor for the difficulties surrounding gay adoption, with society decreeing that a dog, no matter how hyper-intelligent, cannot be a suitable father. The central plot has Peabody hosting a party for a disapproving child services agent and the parents of a young girl with whom 7-year-old Sherman had a schoolyard spat, all in order to prove himself a suitable dad. Of course, the WABAC comes into play when the tots take it for a spin, forcing Peabody to rush to their rescue.
Getting down to personals, we also see the left brain-heavy Peabody struggle with being father Sherman deserves. The bulk of the emotional marks are hit as we learn just how much Peabody cares for Sherman, and just how hard it has been to accept that his only family is growing up and changing.
DreamWorks
But more successful than the new is the film's handling of the old — the material that Peabody and Sherman purists will adore. They travel back in time via the WABAC Machine to Ancient Egypt, the Renaissance, and the Trojan War, and 18th Century France, explaining the cultural backdrop and historical significance of the settings and characters they happen upon, all with that irreverent (but no longer racist) flare that the old cartoons enjoyed. And oh... the puns.
Mr. Peabody &amp; Sherman is a f**king treasure trove of some of the most amazingly bad puns in recent cinema. This effort alone will leave you in awe.
The film does unravel in its final act, bringing the science-fiction of time travel a little too close to the forefront and dropping the ball on a good deal of its emotional groundwork. What seemed to be substantial building blocks do not pay off in the way we might, as scholars of animated family cinema, have anticipated, leaving the movie with an unfinished feeling.
But all in all, it's a bright, compassionate, reasonably educational, and occasionally funny if not altogether worthy tribute to an old favorite. And since we don't have our own WABAC machine to return to a time of regularly scheduled Peabody and Sherman cartoons, this will do okay for now.
If nothing else, it's worth your time for the puns.
3/5
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Showtime
The hits just keep on coming.
It seems like the Gallaghers continue to sink lower and lower into their respective death spirals (literally and figuratively) – will it ever end? (No). Frank, of course, is the literal example here. After his ill-advised stint in the sweat lodge last week, he wakes up in the hospital. His doctor is strangely upbeat, but he still tells it like it is: Frank doesn't have much time left, and his best option is hospice care. At the behest of Sammi, he agrees to take a look at some of the heavily-religious options (the only ones that in his price range – AKA free). Once he sees an unconcious stage 4 pancreatic cancer patient getting a foot rub and a woman in a coma (who does nothing but moan in pain) listening to an embellished folk version of "Amazing Grace," he's out of there like a shot. Guess he's hoping Sammi will be his hospice – and seeing the amount of narcotics she's loaded him up with, it might not be so bad.
Lip has it marginally better, but barely. Remember the ice in his eyes at the end of the previous episode? Well, it's still there. We see it when he tells the doctor he's the closest thing to a "responsible adult" that the family's got, and we really see it when Fiona uses her one phone call on him. He tells her that Liam was restrained and heavily sedated with possible brain damage without batting an eye at her subsequent hysterical sobs, and then hangs up on her to boot. It's a tough episode for him, though: he spends much of it trying track down Frank and keep the family together – two Herculean tasks rolled into one. Finally, near the end of the episode, he gets some victory (a hard-earned B+ on a paper), which gives him a brief moment of happiness, chased by a longer stretch of existentialism. A long shot of him camped out in the hospital lobby surrounded by textbooks tells us all we need to know: this is not a sustainable option.
Fiona has the toughest episode of all (even tougher than her cirrhosis-riddled, death-approaching father). She's transported like cattle, strip searched (the warden even ominously snaps on rubber gloves), and locked in a freezing jail cell – and after hours of begging for a phone call, she gets hung up on by Lip. Her public defender might just inch into competence (at least, that's the hint I got), but other than that, things are not looking good; she just barely manages to squeeze out the words "not guilty" for the judge – no meager feat, especially as she's spent the entirety of the episode wracked with soul-crushing guilt. The judge sets bail at $100,000, and Fiona knows that's not something her family (or Kev and V) can afford. But just as she's despondently poking at gray oatmeal and black toast, she learns that someone has posted bail. And that someone is Mike (I was genuinely surprised). With a promise of no further contact, he drops her off at the Gallagher house, and her homecoming may just be the toughest pill to swallow yet – she returns to a completely empty house. A bleak ending to an even bleaker episode.
Oh, and guess what we have to look forward to? Social workers (who were not impressed by a barely-conscious Frank) are coming back to the Gallagher home: buckle your seatbelts.
Stray Observations:
* I've always loved the fact that Sheila's the type of person that needs to be busy taking care of other people – it explains why she put up for Frank for so many years. The juxtaposition between a house full of Running Tree and his relatives and an empty one illustrates that perfectly.
* Also delightful: each separate Gallagher who needed introduction to Sammi and her weird son got a very truncated explanation – "new big sister" and "nephew."
* So Debs is back with her 20-year-old boyfriend. Where is that storyline going?
* I kind of love Kev. His simultaneous guilt for being a "responsible adult" in the room when Liam OD'd and absolution of Fiona is heartbreakingly sweet.
* Will Mike return? Let's hope so.
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Sony Pictures via Everett Collection
There is a certain level of enjoyment you are guaranteed when signing on for a movie that boasts a cast of George Clooney, Matt Damon, John Goodman, and Bill Murray. And that's the precise level of enjoyment you'll get from The Monuments Men — that bare minimum smirk factor inherent the idea that your favorite stars are getting to play together. In FDR-era army helmets, no less. But what we also get from the film is an aura of smug self-confidence from project captain Clooney, who seems all too ready to take for granted that we're perfectly satisfied peering into his backyard clubhouse.
So assured is the director/co-writer that we're happy to be in on the game that there doesn't seem to be any effort taken to refine the product for the benefit of a viewing audience. An introductory speech from art historian Frank Stokes (Clooney) sets up the premise straight away: the Nazis are stealing and destroying all of Europe's paintings and sculptures, and by gum we need to stop them! The concept doesn't complicate from there, save for a batting back and forth of the throughline question about whether the preservation of these pieces is "really worth it." Stokes rallies his own Ocean's Seven on a fine arts rescue mission, instigating an old fashioned go-get-'em-boys montage where we learn everything we need to know about the band mates in question: Damon has a wife, Goodman has gumption, Murray doesn't smile, Bob Balaban is uppity, and Jean Dujardin is French.
The closest thing to a character in The Monuments Men comes in the form of Hugh Bonneville, a recovering alcoholic whose motivation to take on the dangerous mission is planted in a festering desire to absolve himself of a lifetime of f**king up. When we're away from Bonneville, the weight disspears, as does most of the joy. Without identifiable characters, even master funnymen like Goodman, Murray, and Balaban don't have much to offer... especially since the movie's jokes feel like first draft placeholders born on a tired night.
Sony Pictures via Everett Collection
But wait a minute, is this even supposed to be a comedy? After all, it's about World War II. And no matter what Alexandre Desplat's impossibly merry score would have you believe (coupled with The Lego Movie, this opening weekend might be responsible for more musical jubilance than any other since the days of "Make 'Em Laugh!"), warfare, genocide, and desecration of international culture all make for some pretty heavy material. But The Monuments Men's drama is just as fatigued as its humor, clumsily piecing together a collection of mini missions wherein the stakes, somehow, never seem to jump. We're dragged through military bases, battered towns, and salt mines by Clooney and the gang — occasionally jumping over to France to watch Damon work his least effective magic in years on an uptight Cate Blanchett, who holds the key to the scruffy American's mission but doesn't quite trust him... until, for no apparent reason, she suddenly does. We never feel like any of these people matter, not even to each other, so we never really feel like their adventures do.
The Monuments Men doesn't have much of a challenge ahead of it. Its heroes are movie stars, its bad guys are Nazis, and its message is one that nobody's going to refute: art is important — a maxim it pounds home with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, through countless scenes of men staring in awe at the works of Michelangelo and Rembrandt. And in this easy endeavor, Clooney decides to coast. How could it possibly go wrong? Just grab hold of the fellas, toss 'em in the trenches, and let the laughs and danger write themselves. "This is what they came to see," Monuments Men insists. "Just us guys havin' a ball." But we never feel in on the game, and it isn't one that looks like that much fun anyhow.
2.5/5
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AMC
Traditionally, The Twilight Zone marathon on Syfy is the major TV event of New Years — or maybe that’s just for the science fiction geeks. But if you’re not one for black and white science fiction and you’re more into zombies and meth dealers, AMC has a fantastic alternative. AMC is bringing its two heavy hitters into the ring for the battle of the New Years marathons. From Dec. 27 until Jan. 2, the network will run the entire series of Breaking Bad as well as all of The Walking Dead up until the recent mid-season finale.
We’ve all had a bit of separation anxiety since Breaking Bad wrapped up back in September — how have we lasted almost three months without it!? Now you can relive the whole series on its home network. If you miss Jesse Pinkman as much as we do, the marathon begins at 12 p.m. on Friday Dec. 27 and runs through the weekend until Monday Dec. 30.
Then you can switch gears from drug deals gone wrong to the world gone wrong for The Walking Dead. The marathon begins at 9 a.m. on Dec. 30 and will go until 5 a.m. on Jan. 2. Because who wants to watch the silly old ball drop when they could be watching an apocalyptic world full of humans fighting for their lives against zombies? It’s pretty clear which sounds more exciting.
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Showtime
Maybe the Gallagher family on Showtime’s Shameless is a little rough around the edges — they curse like sailors and keep their savings in a jar — but they make for good entertainment. The new season of Shameless premieres on Jan. 12, a mere month away, and we can’t control our excitement.
When last we left the Gallaghers, bad-dad Frank was hospitalized with a long list of possibly life-threatening medical conditions while Fiona was acclimating to full-time employment and a respectable boyfriend. (Also, Jimmy the car thief is definitely dead despite his vague exit from the show.) Lip had graduated high school and planned to go to college, but younger brother Ian used Lip’s identity to enlist in the army when his relationship with Mickey Milkovich went sour.
Since season four picks up only a few weeks after the show left off, we’ll be able to get right back into the lives of the Gallagher clan. Based on the first promo released for the new season, it seems Fiona, Frank, and Lip will be rebelling against employment, health care, and education. Meanwhile, based on casting announcements, Debbie, the youngest Gallagher girl will continue her transition to adulthood that began in season three.
However the biggest surprise of the third season finale was Ian enlisting and leaving his siblings behind. If there is one Gahllagher rule, it’s that you don’t abandon the family. Plus, we really wish Ian and Mickey could work out their relationship issues. (That’s going to be hard since Mickey is married now, but we’re still hopeful.)
If nothing else, at least Fiona officially has custody over her siblings now. We wonder if that will actually change anything though. We’ll have to tune in on Jan. 12 to find out.
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As well as smashing her own VEVO record by surpassing 100 million views in just six days, the impact of Miley Cyrus' promo for "Wrecking Ball" has also been highlighted by the amount of parodies that have cropped up since its premiere last week. Here's a look at some of the funniest, weirdest and in some cases, most downright disturbing, efforts to replicate the sledgehammer-licking, steel-ball straddling, nude-posing video.
Radio 1's Greg JamesThe presenter of the UK’s biggest pop radio station's drive-time show is no stranger to getting his kit off or indeed the idea of the video spoof, which made him the perfect candidate to slap on the make-up, force a few tears out and show former girlfriend Ellie Goulding exactly what she's been missing.
Frank McDonaldVine user Frank McDonald didn't quite have the budget to recreate the studio setting of the original so instead had to make do with a swinging tyre in his back garden for perhaps the most cleverly improvised tribute yet.
Nicolas CageChances are you'll never be able to look at the comically intense actor in the same way again after one slightly unhinged YouTube user decided to superimpose his face onto Cyrus' body for an eight-second clip which has already racked up an impressive four million views.
Adorable KittenEven the feline world isn't immune from the power of the former Hannah Montana as this Vine clip featuring a disinterested kitten being gently swung by its neck to demolish two upright books perfectly shows.
Aleksei ArcherThe award for most effort goes to YouTube comedienne Aleksei Archer, who not only offered the most well-produced pastiche but also rewrote the entire lyrics of the song in order to mock Cyrus' recent MTV VMA performance.
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Every week, Hollywood gives us something to whine about, and the week of May 6 was no different. We could make a drinking game out of this week, but that would be too dangerous. Instead, we'll stick to the usual formula: varying levels of alcoholic respite depending on how bothersome the week's issues are. Is your biggest complaint this week a flimsy one? How about a light cocktail to take the edge off? Got a real bone to pick with a celeb or entertainment entity this week? Go ahead, grab a drink that'll put hair on your chest. Here are the week's entertainment stories that are forcing us to seek a bubbly or boozy refuge. And maybe an idea or two about how you should wash them down.
Lighten Up With a Mint Julep
Randy Jackson is leaving American Idol, further cementing the show's descent into pop culture past.
We actually love Anne Hathaway's loud blonde 'do. She stepped out with her new locks at the Met Gala on Monday.
We're jealous we didn't come up with this Ryan Gosling Meme. But we're pretty proud of finding it.
Manti Te'o's fake girlfriend is hotter than we are, at least according to the Maxim Hot 100.
We have mixed feelings about the public's reaction to Charles Ramsey. Especially this auto-tune of his heroic interview:
Wash This Week Down With a Gin Gimlet
Amanda Bynes is following in Lindsey Lohan's footsteps again. This time, by getting out of her deserved punishments.
The Great Gatsby movie is missing some very important scenes from the book. And it would have been so much better if it wasn't.
Twitter doesn't seem to think much of Elisha Cuthbert. They deemed her expression at her boyfriend's hockey game a b***h face. We beg to differ.
The sexiest vampire couple ever, Nina Dobrev and Ian Somerhalder of The Vampire Diaries (sorry, Robsten) has broken up. Perhaps Somerhalder has moved on to his true love: Grumpy cat.
Hit the Harder Stuff With a Bourbon Highball
Abercrombie &amp; Fitch doesn't want fat customers. Or says the CEO, in a recently revealed (and reviled) statement.
Charlie Brown goes to rehab. Or, the voice actor who played Charlie Brown goes to rehab, but it still hurts, right in the childhood memories.
We lost too many wonderful Hollywood faces this week, like Bryan Forbes, Jeanne Cooper, Ottavio Missoni, and of course, film legend Ray Harryhausen.
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In sports, a game is never "just a game." The game is everything. And players' personal lives are often forgiven — or at least forgotten — in the name of team spirit. If you're a sports fan, your team is your life. You don't care if Michael Vick goes to jail for illegal dog fighting, as long as the Eagles make the playoffs. Nets fans abhor Kris Humphries not because he married Kim Kardashian, but because he can't make a jump shot. And don't even get me started on golf's blind admiration of Tiger Woods. But with his big announcement on Monday, NBA veteran Jason Collins purposefully put his personal life center stage — or more fittingly, center court.
In announcing that he is gay in a poignant article for Sports Illustrated, Collins has effectively ensured that he will become a part of basketball's eternal history not because of his moves on the court, but because of the very personal decision he made to publicize his private life. Collins will now first and foremost be known as the first openly gay man to play in one of America's four major team sports — and his athletic accomplishments will forever pale in comparison. No NBA or NCAA triumph better showcases his strength, bravery, and honesty.
But now that Collins' announcement has been made, he wants to return attention to the game. Come the start of next season, he wants to be seen as a ball player first and a gay man much further down the line. For better or worse, I doubt that this will become his reality. Broadcast announcers will surely mention his new connotation when introducing him; fans will undoubtedly cheer for his personal strength over his athletic prowess (which, after 12 years in the NBA, isn't what it once was).
This inevitable fascination with Collins' personal life over his professional achievements is something far more common to Hollywood than to sports. While Ben Roethlisberger's 2008 rape charge was all but forgotten with nary a championship title in site, actress Anne Hathaway become Hollywood's most hated person the very same year she won an Oscar. And her greatest crime was being annoying.
In terms of coming out, Hollywood has proven to be more accepting (or certainly more prolific) than professional sports. But from Neil Patrick Harris to Zachary Quinto to Frank Ocean, sexual orientation has trumped the merit of their work in major magazine features and press interviews. While sportscasters are able to interview Tony Parker without bringing up his extramarital affair, the same can hardly be said of his ex-wife Eva Longoria. And, more to the point, you'd be hard-pressed to find a profile on Frank Ocean published in the last year that didn't mention his sexual orientation.
In the conclusion of his SI article, Collins writes, "I'm glad I can stop hiding and refocus on my 13th NBA season." But while Collins may be focusing on the sport, the fans and the media will be focusing on his private life. In making his groundbreaking announcement, Collins has become bigger than the game. While Collins will still reside in the realm of professional sports, he has also entered the greater cultural zeitgeist. He can never really go back to being "just" a team player. And this is a good thing.
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